The Beast (22 page)

Their eyes never separated throughout the dance. It was graceful. It was heavenly. She was lost in him. How long they danced, Belle didn’t know. Only when she was standing next to Aleksander, her arm wrapped within his as he steered her toward the open doors, did her scope widen.

Cold air swooped around them and they stepped outside onto a stone veranda. Belle’s eyes were drawn right to the sky. It was so beautiful, each star dazzling. The full moon shone in silver perfection among them. “Breathtaking.”

“There are no skies in the world as beautiful as the ones you’ll find in God’s Cup.” Aleksander led her over to the railing.

It was warmer tonight than usual and the scents of the surrounding garden wafted around them, as though it were summer. Belle wondered how much effort it took for him, to give her so much detail. Even the quieted music drifted from inside.

“Have you seen many other skies in the world?” Belle asked, pleased that he still held her arm.

He looked up with remembrance in his eyes. “I have seen a few, yes. You?”

Belle laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Oh no, this is the only sky that I know.”

“You are wonderful,” he said abruptly, gazing down at her.

Belle smiled and looked away, certain she was blushing under his attention. Prince Aleksander’s fingers slid along her jaw and turned her face up to his. He was so close to her, closer than when they danced. His other hand came up to caress her cheek and his full lips moved just inches above hers. Lips parting in anticipation, Belle’s heart beat wildly.

Aleksander leaned. Belle’s eyes started to close as she watched him. She wanted his kiss. She
yearned
for his kiss.

But he stopped. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“Someday I
will
kiss you.” Aleksander opened his eyes and stared deep into the depths of hers. “But when I do, it will be real…Not a dream.”

The Prince stepped away from her, and Belle felt the cold more profoundly without him near.

“For now though, there is no place I would rather be.” Tingles swept through her, as he brushed a curl back from her face. “If I never lived another free day in my life, this night would last me till my dying day.”

Belle lost her smile. Everything in this dream had been more than perfect, but it was only a dream. She’d spent weeks in Vakre Fjell getting to know the people and gradually falling for their prince. Even with recent discoveries, their efforts had produced little to go on. But then, there was still one portion of this curse that he hadn’t opened up to her about…

“What is holding you captive, Aleksander. Is it Fenrir himself? Is it something else?” Belle forced out, daring to broach the forbidden topic. “If you would just tell me, I might be able to do something.” Aleksander’s arm dropped and he turned away. Grasping the banister, he stared at the mountains’ reflection in the moonlight. She went on. “My father has a friend in America who specializes in unusual creatures. He might know a way to kill whatever it is that has you, or he might even know of a cure for your people. I can go to him—”

“And what if this man cannot help?” The Prince asked softly.

“Then I’ll keep looking,” Belle answered without hesitation. “I’ll go anywhere, do whatever I have to, to help you. However long it takes.”

“You’d give your life to lift this curse then?” He still didn’t look at her, his voice calm, but guarded.

“Of course.” She reached out, gently touching his arm.

“No.” Aleksander’s voice tensed. His muscles clenched beneath her finger. “Too many have lost their lives to this curse. I won’t allow you to do the same.”

Belle withdrew her hand, uncertain of the ire she felt building in him.

“I’ve been such a fool.” Aleksander sighed, covering his face with his hand. “I’ve sought out your affections and allowed myself to believe there was hope…”

She waited for him to finish, but whatever thought had been on his tongue had faded back into him. Belle searched for something to say, something to bring him back out of this spiral—a spiral she feared was pulling him away from her. “But what about the laws of fatum? It tells us—”

“It tells us nothing,” he cut in angrily. Aleksander inhaled, calming himself. “
Only by her own power can a fate be destroyed
. There’s nothing there, Belle.”

“But there might be. That’s why I want to seek help.” It felt like she was pleading for her life. Any wrong word could end it all. “Someone might see something in it that we don’t. I’m willing to find them.”

“The problem is”—he looked at her, sadness pouring from his blue eyes—“I’m not willing to let you.”

“What are you saying?” It was too late. Dread seeped through her skin, icing her blood. “I can help you. I can free you, I know it.”

Aleksander shook his hanging head. “No, Belle. I cannot be saved. Not—” He looked over and faltered at the sight of her. “Oh my Belle, my beauty. Do not cry.”

He gently pulled her into his arms and wiped away the tears with his gloved fingers. Belle hadn’t even known she was crying. His arms remained comfortingly around her, but the gentle words that followed were not what she wanted. “You can’t help me, Belle. I know that you’ve killed hundreds of terrifying monsters, but even your skills won’t help me.”

“Please, Aleksander. Just let me try.” She touched his cheek.

He pursed his lips and ran his hand up to the nape of her neck. “No. I need you to let this go.” He sighed. “And
I
need to let
you
go.”

The words hit Belle like a dagger through the heart. Coldness bled from her veins and into her skin as he stepped away from her. A wall was building up between them. She could see it in the growing hardness of Aleksander’s face.

“You will leave tomorrow.” He turned away. “You are no longer my prisoner, mademoiselle.”

Belle sucked in air as more tears streamed down her cheeks, and this time she felt them; hot and painful. Blackness fell around her and the Prince faded away.

Belle opened her eyes, but she didn’t move. All over she felt numb. As though her entire body refused to accept the Prince’s refusal. How had that happened? The night had been going so well, then suddenly it changed. A few more tears tumbled down her cheeks onto the already wet pillow.

“What is it, Child?” Edvina asked as she tied back the bed’s draperies. When Belle didn’t acknowledge her, she paused in her duties and frowned. “Come now, have some breakfast. That’ll help you feel better.”

Forcing Belle out of bed, she guided her over to the table of steaming food. But Belle had no appetite. She felt sick and it was more than an aching heart. Her body felt weak. Nausea rolled through her stomach. No, she didn’t want food. Not even the coffee tempted her.

Edvina tried to coax Belle into admitting what bothered her, but Belle wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell Edvina. It was more as though she didn’t have any words. They weren’t buried or hiding, they were just gone.

Then Edvina theorized that maybe Belle just needed a good bath to warm her bones. As Belle stared into the hearth’s fire, not really seeing the flames, Edvina hurried the servants. Soon she had enlisted twice as many as usual and the tub was filled and steaming, in record time. Belle sank into the hot water, not hearing Edvina’s reassurances that this would sooth what ailed her, and laid her head upon the rim.

“Oh, dear.” Edvina’s voice barely broke through Belle’s haze. “Are you sure this is the right dress?”

Blinking, Belle realized that time had been lost to her and her bathwater had gone cold. She looked over to see Edvina standing in the doorway, gazing down at the garment brought up by one of the assistant seamstresses.

“Yes, madame,” came the reply. “The request was clear.”

Even from across the room, Belle recognized her gown. The same blue dress she’d arrived in. Spasms rocked her chest. She covered her face with watery hands as the sobs took her. Edvina was at her side in the breath of a second, pushing back her hair and cooing softly.

The words came back to Belle then. Like a tidal wave, they purged from her. Edvina was quiet as she listened.

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” she said sadly when Belle finished. “It appears that the Crowned Prince is even more stubborn than I knew. I wouldn’t have encouraged you toward him if I had thought it would end this way.”

Belle knew this was true and held no ill will toward the woman. In fact, she was grateful for Edvina’s care toward her. Soon she was out of the tub, dried, in her own dress, and standing before the mirror with her hair styled. All the while, Edvina acted as her crutch, encouraging strength and wiping away the occasional tear.

It was strange looking at herself this way. After so many days of expensive gowns and jewelry, her own clothing never looked so plain. Red eyes, with large circles beneath them, only added to the dreary image.

“Beautiful.” Edvina patted Belle’s arm softly, giving her a smile in the mirror.

There was a knock at the door and Edvina left Belle looking at her reflection to go answer it. There was some whispering, then Edvina stepped aside to let Laramie in. He met Belle’s eyes through the mirror. The gloominess in the downturn of his mouth and eyes told her that he already knew everything.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle.” He shifted the items in his hands. “I have some things for you.”

Intrigued, she came over. But her stomach clenched at the sight of her weapons.

“I’ve been instructed to return your weapons to you.” He handed over her revolvers and throwing knives. She looked down at them, running her fingers over the star shooting across the barrel. Monsieur Petit smiled softly. “I’m sure that comforts you some. I know how anxious you were without them.” Belle gave him a halfhearted smile and Laramie went on. “His Royal Highness also requests that you mail these letters upon returning to Contefées.” She accepted the small bundle as he spoke. “They are letters to various heads of state, updating them on our situation. As well as one of a more personal nature to his sister, the Empress of France.”

“Mademoiselle,” Laramie said, causing Belle to look up from the sealed letters. “I’d just like to say—”

“Pardonnez-moi.” A young servant popped his head in. “Monsieur Petit, you’re needed. Lord and Lady Dahling are causing quite the ruckus.”

“Not now,” he grumbled.

“But monsieur, Lord Dahling has fashioned her Ladyship’s undergarments into flags, which now hang from their windows.”

Laramie rolled his eyes, then gave Belle an apologetic look. “Your horse is being readied. Servants will be up for your things. Remain here and I will return to escort you.”

Belle nodded, following him to the door. Laramie pounded down the hall, bickering to the servant. She glanced over, expecting there to be a guard about to shoo her back into the room. But there wasn’t. The two soldiers who’d been by her door every second of every day, since she’d arrived, were now gone. Apparently, Belle was no longer a threat.

Of course, she wasn’t the threat. Not in this castle. No, in this castle the only threat was a monster—a
thing
that held the Prince captive and was so terrifying that an entire castle of soldiers were too afraid to confront it, or even talk about it. Belle wasn’t afraid though; she’d faced her own fair share of monsters. In fact, if this kingdom was too afraid to save itself, then she was just what they needed.

“What are you doing, Dear?” Edvina asked, holding the letters that Belle had shoved in her hands. “Belle?”

But Belle didn’t answer. She walked down the hall, strapping on her weapons and feeling more like the Hunter she was with each step. Her stride was determined. Nothing would stop her from entering the Royal Apartments. One way or another, before leaving this castle, Belle was going to face Aleksander’s captor.

Stay out of the West Wing,
Laramie had said, and now the very air seemed to whisper it.